Two hours later, Jessa walked back into the supply closet, through to the “special” room. She’d kept the key from Retta’s desk on her at all times. Part of her didn’t want it to open the door. She wanted to be able to call Gabby and say she’d tried, but she’d hit a roadblock, and good luck . . . and please never call me again. But part of Jessa knew the key would unlock the cabinet, and then she’d have a new mess to clean up.

She walked over to Retta’s space. The vault with an equal potential for disaster or nothing. Jessa slid the key in and turned it until it clicked. Unlocked.

It figured this one time she was lucky.

She sifted through a few files with a series of case names. Nothing stood out, so she moved to a large envelope, which appeared to have personal papers and some information about accounts for Retta’s kids. Private information. The kind many people would keep in a home safe, but Retta had here. Away from everyone.

Jessa looked at the back section. Files without names. Labels with numbers.

For a few seconds, she just stood there. Walk away and lie. That was one option. The other was to step deeper into Gabby’s claims.

Jessa wanted to do better, be better. To not skate through difficult situations by ignoring them or maneuvering around them, leaving them for someone else to handle. But why? She regretted so much and could easily step away and add this to the pile. What was one more lie?

She texted Gabby, cursing herself as she did it.

Chapter Sixty-Seven
Gabby

In the world of terrible choices, this was her worst. Gabby sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair in the waiting area in Loretta Swain’s office. Just Gabby and the judge’s assistant, a fifty-something woman in a black wrap dress who had insisted the judge didn’t see walk-ins without appointments until Gabby made it clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

She didn’t think she had a choice but to wait. Her world had crashed down around her, and the judge had the power to hit the stop button and turn off all the chaos. She might pretend she didn’t, but Gabby knew better. The ups and downs of her life matched too neatly with the times when she asked difficult questions. Just as Rob had told her they would.

No, this vigilante group existed, and the judge ran it, or at least held a lot of power in it. Gabby would bet everything she had on that fact, and she was doing exactly that with this visit. It could go sideways fast, but Gabby couldn’t imagine anything worse happening to the people she cared about. So if the judge wanted a sacrifice or a deal, Gabby would make it.